Second Man
by A. Lynne
Summary: [Miracle] Jack O'Callahan is sick. Again. Will he be able to make it through? -Chapter 2 added-
1. Sick

Hello all! Yay – I decided to update!

This is another O.C. story, and since I enjoy writing about him, I decided to do just that. Umm, yeah, just give me some feedback if you want to – I've already read over it a couple times and realized I didn't like this as much as I thought I would. Hopefully it'll get better as the story progresses.

…And give some love to O.C. while your at it! He deserves it after all I've done to him! Grin

Enjoy!

A. Lynne

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**Chapter 1: _Sick_**

"Coach," Mike Eruzione's voice loomed through the closed door of the Coach's room in the ice arena, "Coach? Can I talk to you?"

"Come in, Eruzione."

Rizzo slowly stepped in through the doorway and paused a moment to recite the best way to lay down his (and O.C.'s) problem. His glance hesitantly lifted to the man before him.

"You said you needed to speak with me?" Herb asked.

Mike nodded, "Yeah."

"Sit down." Coach gestured to the chair sitting in front of the desk, and Rizzo sat down gingerly.

"Jack's sick." Mike stated, staring into Herb's eyes for a reaction. None came.

"And?"

Rizzo didn't know how to respond. He thought for a moment in silence before responding,

"I don't think he can play tonight."

Coach twirled the pen he had been holding in his fingers, "You think a little cold is going to keep him off the ice?"

"It's not a cold, Coach. He hasn't left the bathroom since this afternoon."

"Well, tell him the game starts in an hour, so he better start hustling. We're down on defense this game, so this excuse isn't going to work."

"Coach, he can barely stand – let alone skate!"

"Eruzione, I do not tolerate faking sick to get out of a game!"

"What?" Mike's eyes lit in surprise, "Coach – he's been throwing up since noon – how the hell can you fake that?"

"It doesn't matter, Eruzione." Herb's eyes looked angry as his voice rose, "Tell Jack he better be on that damned ice in an hour," He paused, "then we'll see how he's playing after the first period."

Mike stood up, trying his best to look unfazed and spat out "Yes sir," before stalking out the door.

* * *

Jack O'Callahan could hear footsteps as they approached the bathroom stall he knelt in. 

"Jack?"

"What?" O.C. didn't mean for his voice to sound so harsh, but retching in a toilet all day didn't help his mood.

"Can I come in?" Eruzione sounded hesitant, making O.C. roll his eyes,

"If you don't mind the smell."

Mike opened the stall door looking sympathetically at him, "You any better?"

"Do I look it?" He kept his face down, letting a drop of sweat roll down his cheek. O.C. hated himself for not being strong enough to brush it away, but at the moment, the only thing keeping him from falling to the tiled floor were his hands that held onto the toilet seat.

"Coach…" Mike paused, "Coach said you have to play tonight."

"I already figured that out, Mikey."

"And we've got about 45 minutes before the game starts. We should go to the locker room soon."

O.C. nodded, but he instantly regretted it as his stomach started twirling. Leaning over the toilet once more he whispered, "Go ahead, I'll meet you there."

As Mike Eruzione left the bathroom, the sounds of retching met his ears.

* * *

Hmm. Now that I've thought about it, it does kind of sound like my other story oO…Lol – if you have any other ideas for a plot to continue this with – it'll be greatly appreciated! 

Feedback is always welcome!


	2. His Fatal Flaw

Oh dear. I'm **so** incredibly sorry for making this so late! I had it all typed up on my laptop but I wasn't too quick on updating up to I'm also so sorry for making Herb look like an asshole in this chapter (well…maybe all my fics make him look like that) – I'm almost sure that he wasn't! Maybe in the future I'll make him look real nice or something…

Anyway, as an apology, I made this chapter EXTRA long (for me, anyway), and hopefully you all will forgive me:)

Oh, and **IMPORTANT NOTICE**! –

If you don't get what O.C. and Herb are screaming about in this chapter, _you will find out later_!

Have fun reading!

* * *

As he slipped into his hockey pants, Mike Eruzione had the feeling the O.C. was not going to be coming into the locker room anytime soon. It was twenty minutes before the game, and for the past half hour he had been listening to his teammates' immature stories and comments on how retching was the grossest thing in the world.

"Hey, Eruzione!"

Mike's head turned to see Dave Silk looking at him, "Yeah?"

"Where's Jack? The game starts in twenty minutes."

Mike sighed, "He was in the bathroom last time I checked."

"Hopefully he can stay on his feet tonight," Silk turned to his teammates, "I heard these guys are real dirty."

"Yeah, they are. Back in '76…."

Mike tuned his teammates out as he tightly tied his skates. He wondered briefly where his friend was and if he had run into Coach on the way back. After he had mechanically slipped on the rest of his gear, he checked the clock and realized that only ten minutes remained before their game. The wooden door suddenlypushed open, though, and the team turned quiet as Jack O'Callahan silently walked in and slumped onto the bench that held his gear.

"You okay?" Mike asked.

O.C. nodded, avoiding the questioning gazes of his friends. Slipping off his sweaty shirt, the others could see the glistening sweat along his shoulders and chest. A whisper from one of the guys seemed to echo through the room and he winced internally, not liking all the attention.

"Guys, cut it out." Rizzo's stern voice came from beside him. Jack thanked him in a quiet stare that lasted only a moment, and he returned to dressing. The guys, unsure of what to do, broke out into an uneasy conversation.

"Herb's gonna be coming here in five minutes," Mike said to him, "You should probably hurry."

"Yeah."

After slipping on his shin guards, socks, hockey pants, elbow pads and shoulder pads, he reached down for his skates. A sharp pain burst through his stomach, and he paused, wincing and breathing raggedly.

"Here, lemme get those." Mike whispered. Kneeling down in front of him, Rizzo took the skates and slipped them on his friend's feet. Feeling the overwhelming tenseness of the man above him, he glanced upwards.

O.C. burned with embarrassment. Adding to his flushed and clammy cheeks was a small tint of pink. Eyes closed, his breath came in short pants; Mike looked at his fists and saw them clenched.

"It's okay if you need help, Jack." Mike said, climbing back to his feet, "No need to feel embarrassed."

O.C. didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed his jersey from beside him and jerked it over his head, looking the other way.

Rizzo stood and stared the whole time. He knew that O.C. had too much pride that one could possibly handle, but he never though to this extent. Jack was sick – it was okay if he needed help, wasn't it?

Mike's thoughts were broken as he saw Jacks weak attempt to tie his skate laces. Kneeling down once again, he assured his friend with an, "I got it." and brushed the man's hands away. After tying the first skate and moving to the second, he quickly noticed the stillness that settled upon the room. Slowly looking upwards from his task, Rizzo spotted Herb watching in the doorway.

"Does Jack need everything done for him these days?"

Mike felt the tension choking the room as he looked towards O.C. The younger man's face once again shown of humiliation, but also took on the look of a man who wanted to desperately punch somebody.

"Or," Brooks continued, "I guess Eruzione just feels the need to help everybody that comes along his road. You like the feeling of being a hero, don't you Rizzo?"

It was Rizzo's turn to burn with embarrassment, and he glared towards his coach. Of course, he knew glaring was disrespectful towards elderlies, but this situation had an explanation. Herb had no reason to pick on Jack today.

"Be on the ice in five minutes for the warm-up, boys," Herb announced, sounding disgusted. He turned to Jack, "Hopefully you all will be able to pay attention on the bench today, instead on looking for the blonde twins in the crowd."

Mike noticed Jack's breaking had become louder. Looking towards Brooks with hate flashing in his eyes, O.C. spoke loudly,

"There's nothing like an ugly ducking, is there, Herb?" Mike's eyes drew together with confusion. What was O.C. talking about? Jack's words became slurred, almost as if he was drunk, as he continued, "Although, you would know, wouldn't you? You married – "

"That's enough, O'Callahan! I can have you walking out of this arena in fifteen minutes in you street clothes, if you keep this up!"

"I'll keep up whatever I want to!"

Al the players eyes widened with shock, and a whisper of "what the fuck?" echoed through the room.

"You won't if you want to be on this team!"

"It's not like I have a choice!"

"You damn well have a choice! You've always had a choice! I just guess your big head got in the way of making your decisions."

"What, and your damn head didn't get in the way of making _yours_?"

"Don't start that up again, O.C.!"

"What, _Coach_, don't want the others to know about –"

Jack was cut off by Herb's silent glare. Eyes digging into O.C.'s, he said, "Everybody on the ice in five minutes – except O'Callahan," He turned his attention to the man, "You can wait here until the game's over." Herb turned around, and without looking back, walked out.

"What the fuck, O.C.?" Silk's voice protruded of the murmurs.

Mike turned to him as he brushed his hair back with his hand, "Why the heck did you say that?"

"Herb knows what I'm talking about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike said accusingly, "You just –"

"I know what I just said, Mikey. Leave it alone."

"But why did you –"

"I had every right to say it."

"No you didn't!"

"_You_ don't even know what I'm talking about, Mike! Just leave it alone!"

Rizzo was fuming with anger. They had just lost their best defenseman for the game (or even for the season) because he didn't have the guts to keep his mouth shut. Ignoring Jack completely, he slipped on his own jersey and stood up, ready to go.

"You guys wanna go out a little bit early? I think the Zambonie's done with the ice."

The others nodded. They were all ready too.

"Have fun, O.C." Jimmy Craig said as he walked out of the locker room.

The room became silent after everybody had left and the door closed with a soft "click." Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes, willing his headache away. Thinking about what he had just done, O.C. cursed himself and proclaimed that he had just won an award in the 'Most-Stupidest-Things-To-Say-To-Your-Coach'.

"Great, Jack." He mumbled to himself, "You're an idiot."

Five minutes passed before he felt his stomach turning restlessly again. Sighing with anger, he fumbled into the bathroom that was attached to the locker room. He knelt before the toilet, whispering a small "Argh!" before his stomach heaved and he was throwing up once more.

* * *

Mike Eruzione burned with sweat and his muscles screamed at him to stop his sprinting. All his anger went to O.C. that moment; if it hadn't been for his loud mouth, Mike was sure that Jack could've stopped the three goals that had already leaped into the net.

"You're such an idiot, Jack!" Mike whispered as he glanced at the clock. The all-too-familiar ringing of the clock echoed through the stadium. The third period as over and they had just lost. Badly.

After the lineup of shaking hands with the other team, they headed for the locker room. Mike almost had a strike of pity for Jack because he knew the team was going to give it to him. Yet upon walking into the room, they all noticed Jack's absence.

"Where is he?" Someone growled.

"I'm gonna kill him." Said another.

"Don't tell me he left, 'cuz I'll –"

"Naw, he didn't leave. His stuff is still here."

"Well, then where is he?"

"Mikey, do you know?"

Mike looked up to his team as he sat down, "How the heck would I know?"

"I dunno. You talked to him last, didn't you?

"I can't remember."

"Jack!" Silk's voice rang across the walls, "Jack!"

"Guys, shh!" All eyes turned to Jimmy who had his finger to his lips, "Listen."

The small sound of retching and whimpering hit their ears, and Mike was up in an instant. Running to the bathroom, he flung the door open, and his eyes caught upon the figure lying on the tiled floor.

Jack O'Callahan lay on his side (his equipment completely stripped from his body and was only dressed in his shorts and wife beater), silently sobbing and shaking as he vomited blood and stuff that looked like coffee grounds violently onto the alreadly stained floor. Mike ran to his side, shaking as well, and he placed his hand on the man's shoulder. Never, _never_ in his whole lifetime did he ever imagine someone like Jack O'Callahan in such a vulnerable position. Even that thought made butterfly's creek up his spine.

"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?"

O.C. sobbed louder and tightened even closer into his ball.

"Someone go get Doc!" Mike yelled over his shoulder and noticed that everyone stood in the doorway; distress and shock written on all their faces. When no one moved, he shouted at them again and watched as Bob Suter scurried off out the locker room door.

"You've gotta be kiddin' me, O.C." Mike whispered, brushing the sweaty hair out of the man's face, "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

Jimmy pushed through the crowd and knelt down next to his teammates, carefully avoiding the vomit on the floor, "What happened?"

"I don't know. He was like this when I came in."

"O.C.," Jimmy said, leaning closer to his ear so he could hear, "O.C., what hurts?"

"E-ev-r-ryth-ing." He cried, shutting his eyes tighter.

"You gotta be more specific than that, bud." He said gently.

"M'stom…ach. An' h-h-ead."

"Alright," Jimmy whispered, rubbing his shoulder, "Just hand on 'til Doc gets here, okay?"

"Can-n't."

"Of course you can." Mike chided.

"No-o." Jack cried louder and he tensed as his stomach contracted, sending vomit running from his mouth once again. They all watched as his eyes opened for a brief moment and then theyjerkilyrolled back into his head.

"O.C.?"

Jack didn't answer; his body had gone completely limp.

"Shit. _Shit_. Jack? Jack! Wake up! Shit, where the heck is Doc? Someone go fucking get Doc!"

"I'm right here, I'm right here!" A familiar voice met Mike's ears and he looked up, thankfully seeing Doc kneeling next to the boy on the floor.

"What happened to him, Mike?" Doc asked, placing his fingers on the man's neck to feel for a pulse.

"I don't know! Earlier…no, all day today he was...having bad cramps and was throwing up."

"Did he feel feverish?"

"He looked hot, yeah."

Doc grabbed a BP pump from out of his medical bag and slid it around O.C.'s muscled but slim arm, "I already phoned for an ambulance; they should be here any time now. Was there anything else that seemed wrong? Headaches? Dizziness?"

"His head hurt." Jimmy said, "He was really grumpy today, too." He paused, "But I'm not sure if that's normal for him or not."

"All right." Doc nodded. He paused for a moment to read Jack's BP before sliding it off his arm. Taking a thermometer from his bag, he placed it in O.C.'s mouth, "Can you hold that there, Mike?"

Mike nodded, carefully holding the piece of glass.

"Now, about his pains: did he say whether they were sharp or just throbbing?"

"He never said. It looked pretty bad, though; he couldn't tie his skate laces earlier."

"Did he have shortness of breath?"

"Yeah, he did. But…but I didn't really think anything of it."

"This afternoon – was he throwing up blood like this?"

Mike winced and looked down to the vomit on the floor. Chunks and swirls of dark red stained the brown liquid.

"Not that I know of."

"Has this ever happened to him before? Not when he was a child?"

"I honestly don't know; he never talks much about that stuff, anyway."

"Did he complain of being sick yesterday?"

"No. Well…he might have; I didn't notice that, either."

It was then that Mike Eruzione noticed that he knew next to nothing about his friend. He looked down to the prone figure who was now shaking and had turned almost a deathly shade of pale. Guilt flooded his body and he closed his eyes.

If Jack made this out alive… – No. He wasn't going to think that way.

A sudden notice caught his attention and Mike turned to see the paramedics walking into the room. They knelt down beside Jack, and it was only then that he could relax.

"Damn it, O.C." Mike thought, watching them place an oxygen mask over his mouth, "This is so screwed up."

* * *

This isn't done! Check back again sometime for more chapters! I even have a real plot that's going to start up! 


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